


Memento

by wholivesin221c



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholivesin221c/pseuds/wholivesin221c
Summary: Set somewhere between Iron Man 2 and The AvengersA short interaction between Natasha and Clint.Natasha cuts her hair and Clint has feelings about it.





	Memento

Clint was perched on the small island in Natasha’s kitchen. He had come over for their usual Thursday dinner together, but tonight Natasha had insisted that there was something she needed to do first. So he watched her place a small trash can next to the coffee table where a towel and a knife were already laid out. 

“Why can’t you just go down to a salon like a normal person?” He asked. 

“I prefer to do it myself.” She countered.

“I still don’t understand why you want to cut it at all.” They had been having this argument since he had walked into her apartment that evening.

She just shot him a patented death glare. “Long hair gets in the way. Fury made me grow it out because that Stark guy likes his women to have a certain look.” Natasha made a face like she wanted to throw up. “I don’t want the reminder of that particular assignment.” Clint tossed his hands up signifying surrender on that front.

She touched her hair to make sure it hadn’t dried too much since her shower, doing this to curly hair would make it more difficult. 

“I think it looks nice.” His tone was hard to read. Natasha decided not to look over to try to discern more from his facial expression. She had a mission to accomplish she couldn’t afford to get distracted by Clint’s reactions.

“The last time I had long hair was when I was being trained.” She had a troubled, dark look on her face as she picked up the knife and studied her reflection in the small surface. It was familiar to her to look over her tools before a mission. It helped her push nerves away and focus on what needed to be done.

She made the first cut a little below her chin knowing when it dried it would curl tight making it shorter still. Natasha closed her eyes, preferring to work by feel rather than sight. In quick motions, she cut small sections so each piece matched the previous one. 

She heard Clint leave the counter make the short journey to the couch. When she raised her hand to feel her progress her arm brushed his leg, he had settled on the arm of the loveseat. She felt the last section at the very back.

“Let me do it.” Clint’s voice was somber, almost reverent. 

She opened her eyes. He had a small smile on his face and she expected his eyes to be full of mischief. However, as she looked into them what she saw was closer to pride or admiration. She raised her eyebrow and cautiously handed him the knife. There was a time where she wouldn’t have trusted anyone with a knife in her vicinity. How the times had changed. How he had changed her. 

Clint walked around to the back of the couch. He felt the newly shorn edges, his fingertips as light as feathers against Natasha’s newly exposed neck. Natasha hoped he couldn’t see the goose bumps that were being raised up and down her arms. She imagined she could feel the quick motion when he cut the last strand. 

She quickly stood and started gathering the fallen hair into the trash bin and wiping the surfaces down with the towel. He had hopped up to sit on the back of the couch and was weaving the strand he had cut around his fingers. 

“You can keep it if you want,” Natasha said casually.

“What? This piece of your hair?” Clint made a face. 

Natasha just shrugged and offered him the trash bin. However, instead of throwing it in with the rest of the scarlet tresses that were pooled like blood at the bottom of the sack Clint walked over to his quiver and pulled out an arrow.

“This is the arrow I was going to use to kill you.” His tone was nonchalant. 

There was a silence where he just stood there looking at her with her hair in one hand and the arrow that was supposed to be her death sentence in the other. 

She wanted to ask where he was going with this or why he still had that arrow. Instead, what came out was, “Thanks for giving me a second chance.”

Clint smiled, half his face lifting higher than the other. He came back to sit next to her on the couch. He balanced the arrow between his knees and tied the hair close to the fletching. 

There was a silence between them again. It was a warm, full silence that seemed to recall every moment they had spent saving each other’s lives since that first fateful meeting. They laid their hands next to one another, so the sides of their hands from wrist to Pinkie was touching. Every anxious aftermath they had hidden out and bandaged each other up was in those two hands. Natasha felt a contentment that had been non-existent in her life before Clint. She wanted this moment to stretch on infinitely.

But then the moment popped like a soap bubble as Clint said “Okay, can we order some pizza now? I’m starving.”

Natasha let out a rare laugh and tossed Clint her cell phone. “As long as you don’t order that unholy thing with pineapple.”


End file.
